


Red Runs Down Her Fingers

by idiotwithapen



Series: An idiot’s Amphibia one-shots [1]
Category: Amphibia (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Nightmares, Self-Destructive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiotwithapen/pseuds/idiotwithapen
Summary: You did it. You won the crown. The toads are on top like they always were meant to be. But how can you think about winning when there was a sword in her back, and you were the one grasping the hilt?
Series: An idiot’s Amphibia one-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165625
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Red Runs Down Her Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Got the urge to write angst at 3 in the morning, and I decided to clean it up and post it. Now we have this little ficlet!

_You did it. You won the crown. The toads are on top, like they always were meant to be. But how can you think about winning when there was a sword in her back, and you were the one grasping the hilt?_

_You stood there, frozen, because there was nothing you could do to undo this. The blood drip-drip-dripped down the blade, pooling at the gaurd, coating your hands with a crimson sheen. The red runs down your fingers, and you want to vomit as the tears drip-drip-drip down your cheeks, falling onto a satin pillow as you sit in the newly claimed castle._

_There are festivities and celebrations, toads cheering your name and calling you over for a drink, but you choose to spend the night in the bathroom washing your hands. The red runs down your fingers and drip-drip-drips down the drain, blood on the porcelain-white sink and blood on your porcelain-white hands, no matter how hard you scrub. King Grime’s steady hand on your back isn’t enough to stop you from wishing you could scream and cry, break and tear, destroy this horrible city and everything it stands for._

_However, there simply isn’t enough fight left in you to do it, so instead you stand there numbly while the thought of what you did to her rip-rip-rips your heart to shreds. You don’t feel like you won, you just feel sick._

Sasha wakes from her dream, but the tear stains on her straw pillow and the look of concern Grime gives her that she doesn’t deserve are far too familiar for her to trust that she isn’t still dreaming. Sasha goes outside and does what she always does when she has a nightmare; she punches a sack. The rhythmic thudding of her hands against the burlap is almost enough to distract her from the sadness gnawing at her stomach.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

In her dreamlike state, Sasha can’t quite remember what she is fighting for, but she blocks out the questions with punches. Sweat drip-drip-drips down her forehead as she slams her fists harder and harder into the sack until her knuckles split and bleed. Red runs down her fingers, but she doesn’t bother cleaning the cuts- she couldn’t get the blood off her hands if she tried.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it, it will make my day.


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